


The Witching Hour

by JZXR7



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: All sexual acts occur while sober, Biting, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Hair-pulling, Other acts of very minor violence in a sexual capacity, Sex, Tissaia finally finds a way to make Yennefer behave herself, Yennefer's episode 5 sex outfit, forgive me Father for I have sinned, this is porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22328110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JZXR7/pseuds/JZXR7
Summary: Tissaia does not expect much from four in the morning other than the ability to sleep.This is not what she gets when one Yennefer of Vengerberg, fresh off some sort of alcoholic bender, appears in her bedroom.She appears to be under the delusion that Tissaia's visit in Rinde may have been somewhat sexual in nature.Unfortunately, it is four in the morning and Tissaia is hardly functional enough to correct her.What ensues is most definitely not appropriate and going to make her very late for her morning classes.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 23
Kudos: 433





	The Witching Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Have some porn, everybody. This tiny ship doesn't have enough of it.

It is four in the morning. Tissaia is asleep in bed, because it is four in the morning and while there are very few times on this continent where teenage girls with varying levels of magical talent are not getting into mischief, four in the morning is reliably one of them.

When she hears the telltale whirl of a portal meters from her bed at _four in the morning,_ she knows it today is not going to be at all good for her patience with humanity.

She prepares herself to dispatch whatever unwelcome visitor she’s been graced with using a well-placed blast of magic, only to stop short. She’s not sure if this visitor is entirely unwelcome. Her lips are a deep red, and one of the few parts of her face visible in the low light. Her eyes are dark, the color unable to be discerned, and framed with a black lace mask. The rest of her clothing is black as well, cut to frame glorious curves. Tissaia can’t decide whether someone has sent the strangest present she’s ever received, she’s having a very unusual dream, or she’s about to be assassinated. The third would be quite unfortunate. The woman in front of her is far too lovely for Tissaia to enjoy ridding the world of her charms.

“Oh good. You’re up.” 

Just like that, reality slaps her in the face like a bucket of ice cold water over her head. Yennefer sways in place as if beginning a dance to music only she can hear, and Tissaia detects the faint smell of spirits permeating the room. She decides that perhaps she ought to get out of bed and demand an explanation. Now. She shoves off her quilts and rises to her feet, approaching Yennefer as one does a potentially rabid animal.

“You know, it’s rude to just…” Yennefer waves a hand about her face as she searches for a suitable word to describe whatever slight Tissaia has committed against her. “You shouldn’t just get up on someone's bed and ask them to run off with you. And then _leave._ ”

Tissaia runs the events of yesterday’s visit to Rinde over in her mind. She did sit on Yennefer’s bed at some point. However, she maintains that insisting the woman return to Aretuza with her is quite different in connotation and intent than asking her to run away with her. Her sleep-addled brain is just about to insist she explain this key misunderstanding to Yennefer before the woman continues her drunken ramblings.

“I would’ve. If you weren’t going to be all _responsible_ for people who aren't worth shit.”

Tissaia has not endured a migraine since her ascension so many years ago, and yet she feels one coming on. She can’t be hearing this right now. And if Yennefer wants to talk about rude, then she ought to realize that appearing in someone’s bedroom, dressed like some sort of fantasy and slurring various accusations at them, is less than the definition of proper behavior as well. But it is _four in the morning,_ as mentioned, and she ought to be slipping into unconscious bliss, not dealing with...whatever this situation is. 

She almost wishes it were indeed an assassin. 

“Right now, I’m going to be responsible for you. Get into bed, please. And take off that mask.”

“Tissaia! Who knew you had it in you?” Had what in her, exactly?

Yennefer slinks across the floor with more grace than someone in her state should have, throwing herself into Tissaia’s arms. She’s unprepared for the sudden force to her torso and stumbles backward, Yennefer’s arms wrapping around her body like vines creeping up a castle wall. She manages to right herself before tumbling onto the bed, Yennefer for all the world unaware of the annoyance she’s causing. She’s toying with Tissaia’s hair, out of its usual confining updo, and her body is pressed tight against hers. She can see the violet of Yennefer’s eyes now, gleaming like a panther’s, and her lip is trapped between her teeth she inches her face closer to Tissaia’s. “You should have asked me to bed with you earlier. I never would have left.” She is reminded that once again, they seem to be suffering some difficulties in communication, because while she did suggest Yennefer get in her bed she did _not_ mean it in the way Yennefer has assumed. Regardless of how appealing such an idea would be if Yennfer were not three sheets to the wind and Tissaia were not ready to collapse upon the nearest horizontal surface.

“Yennefer. Unhand me this instant.”

The arms around her neck fall to Yennefer’s sides. She looks down at Tissaia, dejected pout on her lips, and Tissaia wonders what celestial being she must have insulted to be sent this particular brand of torture. “You are drunk. Get into bed and sleep. Now.”

“You gonna join me?” The question is a valid one. Tissaia would love to say yes. She is not supposed to be awake right now, and that is _her_ bed. However, given Yennefer’s fantastic approximation of an octopus, it might be safer for her sanity and professional boundaries if she is not within grabbing range until the nuisance curling up in her blankets leaves.

“No. I am not. Now go to sleep so that we can get you sober enough to make your exit before Aretuza awakens.” Hopefully, Yennefer is embarrassed enough by this little escapade to either sneak out before morning or come to her senses and return for good. Tissaia would accept either option. She sinks into the armchair she keeps in her room, attempting in vain to find a way to recline on the damned thing. First thing tomorrow she is going to acquire a couch. She has fervent hopes that this is a one-time occasion, but knowing Yennefer she isn’t optimistic. Tissaia eventually falls asleep sitting up, neck at an angle that will make her miserable in the morning, with Yennefer of Vengerberg making a noise that she can only describe as obscene in her sleep.

Tissaia awakes to a tickling sensation against her jaw and something rubbing against her thighs. Her eyelids creep open, but whatever strange dream she’s having does not dissipate with her return to the waking world. It’s actually getting much worse. A pair of lips press against her neck in a teasing kiss, someone’s fingers pressing into her hips. She flexes her legs in anticipation of springing to her feet only to discover there is someone bracketed between them. 

This is not happening. She will look down, and this will be a dream, and her bed will be empty because Yennefer snuck off in the night and definitely did not decide to exercise her creativity in waking Tissaia up.

She looks down, as much as she’s able to with her very stiff neck, to see Yennefer kneeling between her thighs. Her lipstick is smeared and no doubt staining Tissaia’s pale skin, and her hair falls over her shoulders right within her reach. It’s not the worst way she’s been woken up. Actually, the view is rather delicious. And perhaps she’s a little slow when sleep deprived, because she finds herself relaxing into the back of the chair as Yennefer eases forward until the woman is almost in her lap. Perhaps it’s the proximity, perhaps it’s the scrape of Yennefer’s teeth against a particularly sensitive section of her skin, but she is brought back to the reality of her situation far too suddenly and panics.

“Yennefer. Behave yourself. Immediately!”

“I love it when you get all demanding.” Yennefer starts to slide her hands up Tissaia’s sides, intended destination quite obvious, and she shivers. The little smirk on her face is quite irritating, and Tissaia is quite tired of making a fool of herself when Yennefer is concerned.

“Playing the tease doesn’t suit you. Move your hands before I make you.” She’s not sure what she’d do to enforce the order, though her desire to put Yennefer in her place is growing from a controllable ember of frustration to a forest fire. Still. She doesn’t want to hurt Yennefer. Much.

She’s met with a breathy sigh and Yennefer staring at her with wide eyes and blown pupils. To Tissaia’s satisfaction, she does remove her hands, clasping them in front of her body and dropping back to her knees. Her eyes lock on Tissaia’s face as if awaiting further instructions.

Well then. This just got somewhat intriguing.

“You look ridiculous. Take that off. All of it.” Yennefer looks gorgeous, but it’s the first thing Tissaia can think of that might fluster her now-sober menace. Perhaps this will bring her to her senses. Or it won’t, and Tissaia will see exactly how obedient Yennefer is willing to be for her.

The woman in question trips over herself to strip for her. Tissaia watches in carefully disguised awe. It wouldn’t do to surrender the upper hand so soon over something like Yennefer’s body, no matter how delectable it may be. There’s a sense of satisfaction growing in her chest as Yennefer rushes to follow orders for once in her life, and perhaps this situation, no matter how ridiculous, could become rather enjoyable.

Yennefer stands in the center of the room, unabashedly naked and so very beautiful. She notices Tissaia’s appraising gaze and does a small twirl in place, flaunting every inch of perfect skin on display. Her eyes never stray from Tissaia’s face, and Tissaia can see the faint signs of worry creasing her otherwise overconfident expression. How cute. Even now Yennefer is this desperate for her approval.

“If you want to show off so badly, then do it here.” She waves Yennefer over, enjoying her new form of authority and wanting to see just how far it extends. She tugs Yennefer back down into her lap, firmly pulling her in by her hips until she’s positioned in a way Tissaia likes. Yennefer is a wreck. Her eyes are glassy with want and she’s gasping for short, ragged breaths. Tissaia smiles. She’s rather perfect this way.

“Go on, then. You seemed so intent on dancing for me. Move.”

Yennefer begins grinding into her lap, dark blush spreading over her cheeks, and it’s all too easy to reach up and touch her. First it’s forcing her knees apart until the girl can barely support herself, next grabbing her hands and pressing them against her own chest. Yennefer takes the hint immediately, toying with her hardening nipples as her pace becomes more frenzied. Small, choked moans fall from her lips as her cunt rubs up against Tissaia’s thigh, and the temptation becomes too much.

She runs a hand up Yennefer’s leg until she reaches her center. Yennefer’s movements falter for an instant before returning with a vengeance. Her expression is pleading. Making her beg for it would be fun, but that can wait. It’s far more enjoyable to slip her fingers inside of her. Yennefer is soaked, sinking down into the new intrusion with an ecstatic sigh, and the room fills with the scent of her arousal.

“If you want this so badly, then work for it. If you come before I tell you I will whip you until you bleed. Do you understand?” She feels beyond heavenly clenched around Tissaia’s hand. Yennefer’s head is thrown back with her eyes squeezed shut, hips canting desperately in search of more friction, and Tissaia is inclined to fuck her as roughly as possible until she collapses.

“Fuck yes. Please, Tissaia!”

Yennefer is barely upright, but she hasn’t moved her hands or legs from where Tissaia previously placed them. It’s almost impressive. She takes the hand that isn’t currently curling inside of Yennefer and grabs her by her hair, forcing her to drop her head lower until she’s nearly bent backwards, only supported by Tissaia’s arm at her back. Her chest and neck are arched out for her to touch however she likes, and the most adorable noises are escaping Yennefer’s mouth as she rides her fingers. Tissaia leans forward and sinks her teeth into her neck, a piece of idle revenge for the morning’s shenanigans. Yennefer howls, eyes shooting open in shock, and Tissaia can feel her tighten around her fingers. She moves lower to the junction of her neck and shoulder and repeats the motion. Yennefer’s fingernails dig into her own skin until Tissaia is certain Yennefer may hurt herself and she’s all but sobbing, but the movements of her hips are only growing faster and it’s clear she’s enjoying this immensely.

“I’m so close…” Yennefer’s face is contorted in pleasure. The movement of her hips begins to slow, and while Tissaia is pleased she’s trying to stave off her orgasm as instructed, she’s making it far too easy on herself.

“Did I say you were allowed to slow down?”

“What? No, but-Tissaia please it feels so good!” Tissaia releases Yennefer’s hair, repositioning her arms until Yennefer can support herself against the back of the chair. Her free hand drifts down the struggling woman’s stomach to wrap around her hips and hold her steady as her thumb reaches out to rub her clit, Yennefer’s fevered eyes watching as she groans in dawning realization. “Tissaia. You can’t touch me there if you don’t want me to- _fuck!_ ” 

Yennefer all but collapses, head buried in Tissaia’s shoulder as the speed of her fingers increases. She’s so tight around her fingers, whimpering into Tissaia’s ear like she’s in physical pain, and if every second sentence wasn’t begging Tissaia to keep going and that Yennefer could take it, she’d almost be concerned.

“How badly do you want this, Yennefer?”

“I’ll do anything you want. Please Tissaia.” She can feel Yennefer panting by her ear, back arching as Tissaia curls her fingers. Her thighs are trembling with the effort of staying somewhat upright, and there are some gorgeous bruises blooming on her neck. Tissaia stops to consider the offer. It’s very obvious what she wants. And Yennefer has been enough of a brat at Rinde for her to demand it.

“Good. Then you will return here, either in an official capacity or not, because you are mine and I don’t intend to chase you halfway round the continent every time I desire your presence. Is that clear?”

“Gods yes. I’m all yours, I promise!” Tissaia isn’t certain she believes her, the words flying out of her mouth a mere instant after Tissaia is done speaking, but it hardly matters. Yennefer will do what she will, and if the next time she needs someone to fuck her senseless she’s forced to return to Aretuza, all the better.

“I hope so, Yennefer. Lying to me has consequences.” Yennefer begins some frenzied assurance that of course she’s telling the truth, she belongs to Tissaia, she’ll stay right here for as long as she likes. Tissaia cuts her off with a harsh flick of her clit and she trails off with a choked gasp. “No more talking. Come for me before I change my mind about letting you.”

The result is instantaneous. Yennefer presses forward, hands dropping to claw at Tissaia’s shoulders as she begins to come undone. Her legs finally give out as she thrashes, and she collapses into Tissaia’s lap. Fluids drip down Tissaia’s hand to smear against her nightdress, but all she can really focus on is the face Yennefer is making that she’s trying so hard to hide by shoving her face against Tissaia’s neck. She’s past begging Tissaia not to stop, the only sound coming out of her mouth a high-pitched squeal as she falls apart. Tissaia slows her thrusts as Yennefer goes still. She’s silent and still wrapped around her, making no effort to move. Tissaia has no desire to make her. She traces the planes of her face, removing wisps of hair from where they’ve stuck to her forehead. She wasn’t aware that quiet and still was a state Yennefer was capable of being in, but she shows no desire to get up and flee for Rinde or Vengerberg or anywhere else for that matter. Her breathing has evened out, and her hands shift from Tissaia’s shoulders to wrap around her neck. She’s beyond lovely like this.

Tissaia eases her fingers out of Yennefer, who whines in complaint. “Don’t even start. You’re almost asleep in my arms, don’t pretend you have another round in you.” Not to mention that Tissaia has a great deal of important matters to attend to, and no matter how beneficial it is to Aretuza to _not_ have Yennefer of Vengerberg prancing about causing chaos, she cannot stay in this armchair with Yennefer in her lap all morning.

“Doesn’t mean that didn’t feel good.” Yennefer nuzzles against her neck, peering up at her with a cheeky grin. Well. Her ability to behave herself had been nice while it lasted.

As if echoing this sentiment, Yennefer reaches down between them to grab Tissaia’s wrist, bringing her hand up between them. She runs her tongue over her lips, filthy look in her violet eyes, and sucks one of Tissaia’s fingers into her mouth. Yennefer moans loudly, cheeks hollowing as she cleans herself off each of Tissaia’s fingers. Tissaia leans back and lets her. It’s a very erotic visual and acts as an all too pressing reminder that while she’d love to tie Yennefer to her bed and ride her face for hours, she is running decidedly late. She pulls her hand back with an audible pop, and Yennefer has the sheer audacity to look disappointed. There’s a thin trail of saliva on her swollen lips that she swipes away with her tongue before glaring up at Tissaia with far more defiance than someone begging for release mere minutes ago ought to be able to muster on such short notice.

“I wasn’t done.”

“Yes, you are. I’ll be back in a few hours, you have until then to entertain yourself. Take a bath, take a nap, run halfway around the world. I suggest you be waiting when I return.” She slides an uncooperative Yennefer off her lap and walks her back to her bed, where she crumbles into a boneless heap. Tissaia hurls a blanket over her so she won’t freeze in her clothless state and begins to make herself somewhat presentable. She can feel Yennefer’s eyes at her back.

Good. Maybe she’ll actually still be here when Tissaia returns. It would be a rather neat solution to the problem of Yennefer, keeping her here as some sort of mistress in order to both keep an eye on her and prevent her early demise via pure impulsiveness. 

If Tissaia is also painfully fond of Yennefer and glad to have her all to herself, that’s coincidence.


End file.
